


Golden boy

by saakaat



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Angst, Gen, Gullruten, brofeels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:50:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saakaat/pseuds/saakaat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vegard comforts Bård.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden boy

**Author's Note:**

> Short drabble I wrote early this morning. Not proofed but I needed to write it, ya know? 
> 
> F*ck the Gullrutey. That is all.

Vegard didn't need to look to know where to find him. His feet simply carried him, as if by sense memory, to the quietest spot in the building; away from the glossy hair, caricature smiles and raucous laughter. That golden boy was perched in a plush chair, leaning forward. He had his head down and was peering into the tiny glowing screen in his hand, presumably scrolling Twitter, or perhaps anything that could disconnect him from his surroundings.

Vegard took the adjacent seat, careful not to knock over a golden goblet of Moët that sat at his brother's feet. Bård gave no words of acknowledgement, but he relaxed his hunched stance and sank back into the chair, still staring at his phone. Vegard reached over and placed his hand on the other man's shoulder. Just a light touch, seemingly innocuous to a casual observer. Yet he hoped he could convey all the warmth, respect and gratitude that flowed as freely as the champagne being quaffed around them.

Finally, Bård stuffed the phone back in his pocket. The younger man stared vacantly ahead, though it was unclear whether he was observing his surroundings or was somewhere else entirely. Over years of attending these ceremonies and the obligatory after parties Vegard knew the score. Bård would start the night with a smile that spread broadly and uninhibitedly across his features. In the car over he would tap his foot impatiently, leaning forward in his seat and seemingly thrumming with nervous anticipation. Over the course of the night he would distill that energy in uneven doses until he was replete. It all started with the pre-ceremony interviews, where Bård would spin tales for the press, weaving in a thread of irony too fine for most to detect. As the night wore on Bård would keep on giving, forcing that smile and posing for the photographers that milled around expectantly.

The ceremony itself was the same every year they weren't performing, with long periods of simpering tedium interspersed with those tense moments when their own faces would light up the screen. As much as Bård assured them both they had no chance of winning, statistically speaking they had a 25% chance in each category. Evidently this counted for something, as he would sense his brother tensing in the seat beside him, poised to spring to his feet in that slim chance they would call his name. Of course, it wasn't to be. Twice that evening he felt his brother tense and slacken beside him. It was twice too many.

Of course it wasn't over with the closing of the ceremony. It would be imprudent not to hold court with the partygoers, celebrities and hangers on who flocked to the younger brother and offered their sickly consolations. Bård swallowed it like bitter medicine, washing it down with another gulp of champagne. Vegard could always sense the moment when it finally got too much for his brother. The moment when he would retreat for a quiet moment of reflection.

Vegard was disappointed, sure. But he didn't feel the loss as acutely as his brother. Maybe he was just of a different mindset; after all you arrive with nothing so you don't lose anything, right? It seemed that Bård felt differently. Yet it wasn't merely as trivial as being a sore loser. He put his soul into everything he did, giving not only his time but his vision, his insight, himself. Vegard always felt that if people could see even a fraction of the work Bård did they would see him as more than an 'also ran'. Fifteen years of working together professionally and this visionary boy still had the capacity to surprise and delight him. Vegard often liked to joke about how the most brilliant minds are never appreciated in their own time. He often said it in a light teasing manner, hoping the sincerity wouldn't show through the veil of his mischievous tone. Because he meant it, he truly did. He only wished the world could see what he saw.

He was seeing him now. He observed him in profile, noting the furrowed brow and the way he set his jaw. With no one else around Bård was relaxed enough to let his brother see the abject disappointment play across his features. This was the closest he would get to seeing the real Bård in such a public setting. It was the closest anyone would ever get. Vegard shifted in his own seat, knowing his brother would catch the movement in his peripheral vision and finally look his way.

And so they looked at each other. He stared into those eyes, the ones he knew better than he knew himself. He didn't need to tell him anything. No permutation of words could form a sentence to convey how proud he was of his brother. How proud he was of what they had both accomplished. In fact a small part of him was happy they had lost. Bård's dejected manner told Vegard that he still cared passionately enough about their work to care whether they won or lost. Contrary to what Bård had told the hapless VG interviewer, Ylvis would not be retiring just yet. Not while there was still work to do.

Bård's gaze flicked momentarily to the door, a silent cue acknowledged and answered with an affirmative nod. They managed to slip through the exit with little incidence, stopping only to tell Christian of their intentions before stepping out into the streets of Bergen. They jumped into a waiting car and Bård sank back into the comfortable seat. The car pulled away from Grieghallen and Vegard stared vacantly out of the window as they navigated their home city. Within minutes he felt a shift in movement beside him, and heard the unmistakeable tap tap tapping in the footwell. The sound of a mind hard at work devising the next concept. Vegard's features lifted into a smile. He was excited for tomorrow.


End file.
